


Bereaved. Fallen. Carnage. Lost

by historiCthrenody (Cookieluv246)



Series: B.F.C.L. [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Action/Adventure, Age Play, Age Regression/De-Aging, Bed-Wetting, Bulges, Cock Worship, Cunnilingus, Demons, Drama, Dream Sex, F/F, Female Ejaculation, Female-Centric, Fluff, Horror, Incest, Large Cock, M/M, MORE PLOT THAN YOU'LL EVER WANT, Masturbation, Mommy Issues, Multi, Mystery, Parent/Child Incest, Pegging, Porn With Plot, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sickfic, Succubi & Incubi, THIS SHIT IS KINKY DON'T PASS ME UP, Voyeurism, Wet Dream, a lot of plot actually, rose masturbates here a lot yo, u liked walk dont stride??? bitch
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-17
Updated: 2018-07-20
Packaged: 2019-06-11 23:54:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 17
Words: 14,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15327195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cookieluv246/pseuds/historiCthrenody
Summary: The Girl who craves.A Boy who hates.The Child that grew.The Lost, that found.





	1. .

**Author's Note:**

> THIS ORIGINALLY WAS GOING TO BE JUST A MOMMY KINK FIC, BUT THEN I FUCKING WENT FOR IT BITCH.  
> I'M GOING TO UPLOAD EACH SECTION SEPARATELY, SO WATCH OUT FOR EACH FIC INDIVIDUALLY. 
> 
> (hehe, you might have read this on tumblr, hue)

 

Intense clinking resides from the bathroom tub. It's quick, like a ticking sound, as it hits against the tile, and ricochets of the wall, to the room, and back outside the crack of the door. You feel trapped within a loud chamber. With not much, but the sounds of running water, and steam to clog up your voice, and warm up your cheeks.

An angry groan pushes itself from the metal rust of the pipes, swishing water, trickling, and slowly filling up the bath with heat and liquid. Your knuckles start to bruise, as the sounds grow thicker, and more resistance is met while you lay spread eagle, as the drip of your soak shapes your finely tuned silhouette right from the tip of your buoy.

The noise of riverfalls reign ferociously into the condensation filled body, sending shivers down your open bounds, all the way to the lilac hills of your untossled mound. Red brewing and unblooming, as it becomes soused and put aflame all at once. Well painted tripods, curl and uncurl, as inferno irrigates your better senses, as you run on hydrogen, enough to cotton stuff your crippled sockets.

No one to hold you abound, you accordingly run your money where your mouth is, as water dips out of the arenas of your cash chamber. Drippling ice cream dollops down milked white sweets, your eyes flare back, as you teeter along the edges of right and sane.

"--"

You guck, bones burrowing into the pits of your cream covered skin, as you squeeze your thoughts closed. Lip quivering up, as your throes of ecstasy start to quaken your mild covered form. Prickling sensations making your temperament a spot behind unruly, livening up your coitus, as you licked berries atop pumpernickel seeds.

_"Ah,"_

Knees bucked to the center of your skirt, beating a steady path, once folded, twice fed, as pottering stirs the heart grown yondering, a heavy drought exerting copulous dread. Esther becoming bewitching, a taste scorched in hearth and signet. Flyers of partisans, avasculating dull grey skies, and perpendicular vixens with cunning secretive eyes.

Legs asunder, shapely calves carved of stone and ash, bathed in the riches of Granderite. Lovely coverups, and covergirls, of those bespoken with Shirley Temples and heavy hurls. Assinite, so pretty, so sticky, so wet. Licks of vixens and victims of dampened beds. A curly white spark, to powder a feather, of misdemeanor froths, and nocturnal weather. Weathering on howdy do's and how-we-don'ts, mispoken verbs, and shamefilled goodbyes. Nevering on quips of yips, lips eclipsed, shredded hips, and sizzling cli--

" _Ah.._."

Maternal lingers of deeply sighs, so unbecoming, so undisguised. Cries of bleeding pads, with skinning scabs. A bottle sloshed in toxidants of groans, and graphs, and kiss my a

" ** _Ah_**."

P-pe--ripteral aradites of sunken treasures, mislodged in fernuses of b-burnt up hedges. S-slick back lights, with, shoddy nights reaching new heights of women's r-ri--women's tights, of, types of overshared spent washed up nights. S-S-- Sights of--whites, so--daintily clad just--posed as Mother and Dad-- glad to have, never met the man stuck on a cold hard slab of--cut throat, s-sore thr

" **Ah**..."

Sucking the, m-mari--n--

## " _AH_."

Your hands run miles at a time, as your legs spread open wide. You forget about the sound of running water, as your back hits the porcelain with a loud thud. You feel your heart pound in your ears harder than your clit, as you curve your knuckles further and further into yourself. Your breasts perk up out of the spilling tub, as you lay your head back, and bare your throat.

" _Ah--Ah--Ah_ \--"

You press a pale fist, into a fist full of pale hair. Jadedly throthing like the--like the throth on her glass--hourglass-- as she pours it on her, her, h--her--bosoms, and her large blossom stained n-nipples, as you,

" _AH,"_

KNOCKED, knees to the off white acrylic. Lungs choked, as you vibrate and eviscerate any remaining shreds of dignity as she shreds her clothes--as she sheds her clothes--as she widens her pink softened lips--as you exasperate your red puffy--

**"MM _m_ \--"**

Choked.

"mm **Mm _m_** _\--maa--"_

Hic--

"aaAAa _aaaaa...._ \--"

Cup.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

## "Ha."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The door is knocked on furiously, as your head rolls back bubbles. Legs spread as far as your manners, as your mother shouts something or another about things that could barely keep you interested. The water's still running, and your heart drums expeditiously, as you keep yourself content in the face of events seemingly more dire.

The door tries to open itself, but your lock fuels fable.

The mere misfortune of her walking in unannounced draws your breath into a shudder, as your legs bow out.

 

_"Rose,"_

 

You push yourself deep into the water, as you try to hide your rousing stirred excitement, as your cheeks flush darker than the descent of your limbs into the unbiddenly breathless tub.

The knocking dies down into faint drubs, as you tip the faucet off with your foot, and here your mother grounge out a gruffled scoff.

You fall tired underneath the embellished water, as your lashes blanket coyly against your freckles.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You gasp, as you lurch forward. Brass, and naked, as your pert tits, stick out to the cold air like shaved knives. You hear the hoarseness of your breath, as your collar sticks out. Bones pressing out of their sockets, as your eyes look around wide and blown out.

You shiver, as everything reminds you of your senselessness. You're warm, stomach pulled back, as you see nothing but light colors. Light colors that play with your vision, more than it successfully helps it.

Your fingers ring in touch, as you feel something soft. Fluffy. You're somehow secure in the nature that you're safe, regardless of the lack of foresight, nearsight, or any oversight at all.

Your loins start to grow teeteringly hot, and you catch yourself catching on fire as your lady bits vibrate expectingly on their own.

You rest back, arms grasping around your chest, as you feel your throat start to match your bodily inhibitions. You run your lengethned nails into the small pink pores of your soft milky dewed breasts. Legs and gasps, spreading and swirling out, as you arch your hips up to meet nothing but the supple pleasures of indebted servitude.

Your hip bones crack needily, as you arch your back up. Lifting yourself to be met with nothing but the stickily sweet melting of your own honey pot. As it stirs and stirs, without a word of what or why. You breath in depravity, as your neck cracks out a gasp, a wisp, and a hassle.

_"Mmn,"_

You hear someone else yearn, as you curl your body into a curve. You moisten your lip, as a dam feels met with something positivitely elsusive. A slight to your nether regions, as something slick but sickeningly hot draws from up your crack to the tip of your flora, as it leaves a hot trail of cruelty between your thighs, as it licks itself upward like a snake.

You groan, and you feel odd.

Air spreads you a part, as you feel your wilted petals start to bloom.

You open your eyes to see something pertinent and hotly huge rake shape over your damning smaller weak knees.

You shudder out a deepened whimper, as you move your hands to start desperately shlicking your

Desperately shlicking your--

your insides, as--

something's INSIDE as--

 

" _aA **AAAa** h_,"

 

You pierce yourself awake on the--

The hedge board hits your hair, as you grunt heedlessly.

You push yourself up, as you're met with the dark. Your elbow hits your covers, as you sit up hoarsely, shuddering as...

Shuddering as...

You look down, nude, save for the sheer babydoll purple teddy deigned over yourself like a lady. Your thighs are damp and cold, as cold as your room temperature on a good evening, as you peer latently at your closed door, opened moonlight blinds, and deignishly ripened lustful abode. Something that would shock a richened maid in her seventies, with it's aristocracy, as your mother grew bolder in her aggressions of one upmanship, as they grew less passive.

Your room was as stunning as the silk across your arm pits, and your stomach curtled with a hunger that went unbequenched.

You sucked in, belly button stiffened, as you lay a hand experimentally between your legs.

You forgot how you got here, but you must have suffered from one of the night terrors again.

A broad lull, a feminine hum, a startling girth.

Yes, you do appear to have fallen into one of those waking moist tremors.

Your memory is sparse, and you never know how to greet your own mother after these times, as for some reason, she always seems to make it worse.

It started around the time you were ten, as you'd first found your own new way to replace your old cat Jaspers. But she merely mocked you with her growing malice, as she left you feeling more dissuaded from her touch, as the years grew on and on.

You hate your body for carving a heart for a woman as cold and repugnant as glass.

You bite back another bidden throb, as your hands toil with your privates for another round.

You hope that when your legs dispatch themselves from bed rest, she has the sweet guided mercy to steel herself away in her drunken favored chambers, much as you do to yours.

"Ah,"


	2. .

 

Raised in a perfect crescent, your shoulders buckle back, as you push your stomach outward. Your hips lay rested on the ground, as your ribs poke through your skin, cage barren and breasts unsheathed in the cold open lot. Shirt raised, as it rubs against your collar, you breath in a sinking swollen breath, as your belly rolls out and caves in to the fallen cut of your tugged down jeans.

You run a hand down your arch, as fingers delve and dig down your sides to your shadowed 'V.' You rub your legs together, as the fabric knits and cuts against your thigh. Disheveled bits of hair tapering against your colored lips, as you move your palm against the small bump in your grove.

You push your chest back, as nails dip and dwindle around your more favored anatomy. Knuckles trailing up against your thighs, as you follow the curve to your hip and panty line back. Lips parting, as you take in the sweet aroma of your blossoming neck.

You're here again.

In a land of silk and cotton, as you lay ambivilously unpartaken like a newly hatched flower.

The land is soft. Creamy, pink, soft.

Rich in color, but your eyes feel dreary of the scenery, as your body lays scorching.

There is a part that plays on record, in every other instance that you wait unjadedly for.

Your legs part, lips moistened, as you feel lilacs and posies rub against your skin and grow across your back. You shift and swelter, as your body arches and aches. Needing and impeding you further and further into unmarked bliss.

You groan, as your clothes begin to scorch you. Your neck bellowing a clean prairie patch to traverse, as you bob. Licking up spit, as you shallowly hush swallows. Your own grunting out a beginning aneurysm, as leaves scrape and scratch against every part of you that it wished it hadn't.

Slip.

Slap.

Drip.

_Drap._

You hear something crunch solemnly against the leaves.

Crip.

Trap.

Whip.

Whap.

You thumb circles across your waist, as your index and middle tip forward and back.

_Fwish._

_Hack._

_Slip._

_Crack._

You feel something large overbear themselves near you. Your pink garden turns garnet, as it bleeds fierce colors that begin to cloud in your quake.

It's hot, and it leers, as you push your heart rate faster and it drears.

"Mm."

Throb.

" _Mnn_."

**Throb.**

You widen for your specter. A guest you've met a thousand times. You're piqued at an angle daringly salacious, as well as daringly egregious.

You're watched, as you toy with your parts. Slick and poised slippery against the frazed zipper laid on the slab. You moan out in agony, as you perk yourself up against the heat of the muddy putrid air. Your fingers delving and sinking, as it clicks and rubs harshly against your outline. Out lined, wound up, and drunk off an air so recipient that your heart causes you to alarm.

A growl, you hear it in the tune of a woman.

A woman, or a thing. A serpent with a sling.

You whine an octave higher and display yourself for teeth hungrier than your own.

Your eyes roll back, as you breathe in a jolt that rocks you forward and back.

Fingers thrumming further and further into your cove, sound worming and gurgling out of you like a steadily breaking car. Like machinery, you jitter in and out place. You bite your lip, you rub your thigh. A nail into your curve, a withering sigh.

" _Darling_ ,"

 _It_ sings heartily into your pores.

Your vision is dense, but you see little.

A silhouette more than a face, though little is hidden for sore eyes when there's more than eyes to see.

" _Darl **ing**_ ,"

You moan.

Hands startle, as drool slithers out towards the ground. You raise yourself, goosebumps tickled as sweat lathers between every wanting crease. Feminine luminous high hitched groans, as your groin feels hot and severed as you split yourself to pieces for the monster that creeps between weathered grunts.

A light flapping rushes wind past your hair, as you stare at the captive that captivates your salivation.

 ** _Long_** , and oblong, is the thing pointed directly between your legs.

Dark as a boar, hurtful and cruel like something that would rather puncture you than make you make amends. Sturdious. Evil. Like something that shouldn't belong to a voice so melodious, but fervently to something of a rougher brutish status.

It bobs, as you swallow. Legs anchored and plastered sideways, as you plaster your thorns deeper within your spread charring rose. You hear more grunts than your breathing can bear, and you feel your body swim with heat as your head starts to feel asthmatic.

" ** _Darling,"_**

A foul sound sounded from a woman who harrowed so meek.

She maddened herself with her powerful thrusts, as she felt herself fall for things larger than her own fists. She lay straught and mangled, as the croon of open wounds harreled her closer and closer to her own extinction.

She felt herself nearly unwind, as her eyes drew opened, and she saw beautiful pink lips part,

_"Baby,"_

She mutes you, as large flaps stop at your gates.

She mutes you, as you and she,

As she and he

As you feel h

##  **"h-HA,"**

As you feel rise, in a cold pitched dark.

You breathe,

In and out.

In, and slow.

As you notice your mellow world of pink and peach feels moderately more stale and black.

There's wind that curdles you into a shiver, as you look at your drapes that play wistfully amongst the room.

Your breasts stand up, as you notice your body disrobed, and you're starkly in the nude.

You're cold.

But worse,

You grasp the flimsy covers that garb you, and peak at the stains of moisture that lay between your legs and your thighs.

Your cheeks feel bitten, as you purse your lips embarrassed.

A hand moves within your groove, as sticky embarrassment slights you.

You shiver, as you try to recall the dream you just had. The voice, and the murmur, and the telling anguish of the cock you almost got to fuck.

You don't notice yourself rustle, as your hands find themselves neatly slotted in the mess you already made. You move quickly and steadily as you try to recapture your work. You fear fangs, you fear arms, you fear curves, you fear eyes, you fear co

_"h--hA,"_

You fear faint.

You fear _Her._


	3. .

 "A--hh--Aaa-- _Ah_ \--!"

Your voice warbles as your vibrator is set on max, the violent ringing of your toy matching the violent ringing of your ears. You feel it hit you two fold--three fold-- four fold, as you fold back. Shoulders and neck hitting your pillow, as you croon upward. Voice arching on high, as you only barely keep yourself within polite range.

You fuck the toy directly towards the back of your--the back of your spine hitting the back of the wall. The bed rocking with you, as you feel yourself on the jaded edge of climax, as you climb and climb and climb and--

"----AAH---!!"

You hold yourself still, as both hands fist the toy to stay jaggedly towards your g-spot. Biting your lip dark, as you feel yourself keen and waver, as your heart rate is the only thing you can hear aside from the low steady high pitched shout of your voice.

"-- _Ah_ \--!"

Your knees buckle, as you feel a strong pumping down from your chest, and nether regions. You're sore and bruised, and the room feels frigidly cold, as bright lights make you feel woozy as light creeps from the windows to the dresser to the pale of your skin.

"---"

Your stomach rolls in a nervous let out, as your body collapses placidly against the soothingly soaked spoils of your bed.

You feel sweaty and musky, as the air around you feels cold, save for the ones coming out your nostrils.

Your face feels hot, the only thing that does really. Save for the light buzz of warmth coming from the opening of your womb. The close of your mouth. The tip of your breast.

You ache. You ache in that way that says you're tired, but you're _ready._

Ready to start the day you presume.

You feel yourself release your breathe, as you clench up, and drench the rest of your sheets and thighs.

" _Ah_ ,"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Morning mom."

You hum out lackadaisically as you pass by the fridge and the counter. You hear barely a grunt, as you see your mom's wrist wave you off.

Mm, drunk again.

Hungover?

You don't take long to keep your vision ahead of you, as you chug a glass of water, as you look around your swimmingly large abode.

The area looks vacant. Light. You use Solar and Lunar energy to keep the place upkept, as the weather weans far better than the one you're used to.

You don't miss New York much.

You do miss your friends, though.

"Were you out last night?"

You ask conversationally at the woman who's head is glued to glass.

She mumbles something, and you don't care to keep your interest anymore hearty than her's.

"Did you check the radio yet?"

There's no noise as you fidget around the room, taking a quick eatery as you eat a slice of bread and jam.

"Mom," You repeat yourself, knocking on the table. "did you check the radio yet, today?"

"Mmnmn....nn..."

She waves you off again, and you sigh.

You put your plate in the sink and skip off to check out on your sundeck. You move past gaudy curtains and drapery, and metallically slick interior, to move towards your outdoor living scapade for the past several months.

Your mother didn't tell you why she'd decided to move you two.

You were thinking about college, and London, when your Mother deported the two of you to a land that was more deserted than your patience and tolerance for the situation.

The house was nice, beautiful even.

You don't know when she sent someone to design it for you.

Your mother is as secretive about her affairs as ever.

But to each their own.

She won't tell you about your dad, you suppose you don't have to tell her much in return.

Least of all, your deteriating mental health.

Or anguish, even.

You can tell you yourself are starting to learn the rules and laws to your own damning alcoholism.

Cheers.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_November 24th, 20xx_

_I checked the radio outside, to see if there was any better service._

_No response, no boost, no nothing._

_It's been a millennia since I've seen any of the ones I called close._

_I'm glad I have Mr. Dunwich Horror, as the horror of being cooped up by the one parent you supersede in detestment is near blindsighting you, as of late._

_Your state of sanity is. Questionable._

_Your dreams have been worse._

_You don't know why this has been happening, as of late._

_You remember your first wet dream when you were ten. You were small, and just learning about your sexual appetite online, as you were making friends with people you seem to call faintly dear._

_You remember in your dream, a distant friend, but you can't remember who it was._

_Someone who cuddled you to sleep, and helped reached your young puerile body to a sense of climax you meekly recall never much experiencing on your own._

_You became a seasoned sexual deviant, or about as deviant as most your age would boast._

_You laugh, when you bring up old rotten conversations you had as a child with older men on certain jaded terminated websites and browsers. You wonder if you were the only one of your quartet to devolve yourself in the carnage of the unintelligent and flacid._

_Older men from countries longer and farther than their cocks, but you know Dave was just learning to stroke his, and your other could hardly be known to have had found his at all._

_You miss your friends._

_You miss your odd, awful, loathsome hatred towards your Mother._

_Hurt, feels better._

_Shame, is the one that feels too twiddled thumb._

_The pretension of your horrors started on the jaded clock of eighteen. You'd done your research, and done your damage, as far as Woman's Suffrage, you think you had five eleven's worth of disdain._

_But the night before you had planned to send your resume to Yule, you had felt yourself fall ill with a stroke as large as the vibrator between your legs._

_You had fallen asleep to the ends of a terror so hot. So damning. So provocative, that it fucked you stupid, and fucked up your plans._

_You had missed the deadline, and sickishly, you had began to leer on the side of procrastination. Your Mother questioned you, but she didn't come across so much as bratty._

_She seemed irredeemably smug, under the assumption that you must have been too scared to fly the coop._

_Harlot._

_You were mentally deranged, not insane._

_That takes consideration for all the narcotic voyeurism that you took a slanted liking to. Unwise, as lingering on views of the cleavage of your mother as she took a dip of her coffee, or the dip of her curves as she got out of the tub for her afternoon soak._

_Your britches grew two sizes too short, as you gazed at the swiped pink of her lipstick, or the way she'd fold her knees over her leg, as you gazed at the swiped pink of her..._

 

You gulped, as your palm fisted between your skirt. New, and silky as it may be. You find more reasons to split things then to out grow them.

Your nails dig into themselves, as you fidget in your seat. Keeping yourself from hand fucking your palm through entirely accidental and changrin means.

You lick your lips, as your pen grows shaky as you keep writing,

 

_The table. You were bold one time at nineteen on the table. You checked the house, and your Mother went out. To where she goes, you're never sure. She must have friends, maybe she parties. Maybe boys. The scoundrel, you wonder if she dates to her age, or goes after Strider's half her size._

_Dumb cunt._

_You had made a mess about the size of a broken wine bottle, that you **actually** cleaned up. But that's none to you, as you played guessing games with how long you could go before you got caught, as your middle and index caught somewhere between your breath and your nerve-_

 

"-- _HA_ ,"

 

You thrust yourself against the desk you barely manage to write on. Your saliva dripping succulently on the sheet, enough for your journal to become about as much of a smudged mess at you are.

 

You groan.

 

_You don't know what switched you  ̮͔̤͍͇̗͎͡o̝̦̪͘ff̛̞̖̣ ͏o̶͇̜̰͙̻̱̮r̛͎͇̱̱͉--͚̩̯̬̻̯͕͝o̞͉̗̫̩n or ᶠᶠ ᴼᴿ--ᴼᶠᶠ ᴼᴿ-- on when it came to you and your mother, but in digression. Digressively, you dedressg,_

 

"FUCK, fuck, fuc--f--"

 

_You                                                             last  fought                                 right b_

_bed_

_before yo_

_you mo_

_ved_

_to the dseloate part of tgh_

_no_

_no_

_no_

_no_

_NO_

 

The image in your mind is what strings you along. The temptation of _longing_ and _long_. You feel e _long_ ated to the circumference of the desk, the chair, the pen, the

 

Your paper tears as you feel the last of your orgasm tear through your panties, as liquid hits between the wood of the desk, to the hilt of your heel.

 

" _Mn_ ,"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_Dear Diary,_

_The move went well._

_Between the ass crack of the Metropolitan, to the swiveling aggros of Hell._

_Farewell,_


	4. Carnage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> INCOMING STRIDERCEST, HOOOBOYYYY switching POV's

 " _Keep in position_ ,"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He murmurs, sweetly.

Hotly.

Scorching your ear, and scorching your nerves, as his lips brush against your temple.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

" _Spread your legs_ ,"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Your hands are shaky, as you feel his arms brush against yours. Your baby hairs sticking out, and scratching against piercing shit cold air, as you breath in a breath as scared as your body.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Your fingers are wrong."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You feel sweat move down your collar, as you gulp. His hands brush against your hip bone, and pull you closer to his heat. Closer to his body, and closer to his girth.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You grit your chattering teeth, as you keep your eyes gazed long ahead of you.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Like this, _Davie_."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You feel a kiss on your vein, and you burst your lip.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You wake up.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

t 

t 

 

t 

t

t 

t

te 

te

_Teeth chattering._

_Head Pounding._

**_Your face feels so ungnarily unimpressed_ ** with that s-shitty nightmare you've kept having.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

For the past nine months.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You splash water on your face, as you forget to pull off the covers. It's late into the afternoon. You smell like horse shit. Your voice feels hoarse, and you're not sure whether left means go, or go means no.

You feel about ready to kiss ass on the pavement, as you do a one-two-trek through your house to see Mr. Nomad is out powerlifting, or taking an island dump on a beer truck, or something.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He's gone.

 

  

Jesus fucking Christ, thank God.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A hand grips around your throat, as you start rubbing it. Rubbing it thoroughly, the knots out of your sinuses, and collars. Your tightened threatened muscles.

You rub a spot you don't see, as you notice something that hurts.

You turn straight around, back in the bathroom, as you gaze in credit to your nearly handsome reflection.

  

 

"Son of a--"

 

 

You see a bruise you wish you hadn't.

It's dark and purple, and it runs about the length of the--

About the length of the--

 

 

"About the length of a M16 rifle, you got to think about how to catch the son's of a bitches--"

"Son of a bitch," You re-iterate.

"We always have to work quickly. Speedily. Your toes should be as loud as your nose, read me what I taught you--read me line L-7-0."

 

_( What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck, you don't recall your voice as you automatically just start spouting psychobabble lingo, )_

 

"On the note of an attack from a higher class--"

 

_( What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck, )_

 

"citizens and normies have to be stood down between a line of fire, and a--"

 

_( that's not you who's speaking, so why is that coming from your mouth, )_

 

"cock the g."

"Hm?"

"You're supposed to. cock the. cock the."

"Something wrong?"

"What if there's a person in there, Bro."

"Person?"

"I saw. Eyes. Eyes that were, kind of hurt, the last time we. Our last rendezvous out back."

 

_( stop it stop it stop it stop it stop it )_

 

"You think people were born out here with souls?"

 

_( stop it stop it STOP IT stop IT )_

 

"I mean. If you wanna look at it. Your soul is either theirs or yours, so I made the decision for you."

 

_( stop it stop it STOP IT STOP IT STOP IT )_

 

"I made a choice, to make your soul mine."

 

 

_STOP IT. STOP IT. STOP IT. STOP IT._

 

 

"Mine or theirs, and I chose mine."

 

 

 

**_STOP. STOP._ **

 

 

"Your soul is mine to part with."

"That's fucked up Bro. Are you even a person??"

“Wonder that myself,”

 

 

 

 

**STOP IT, STOP IT, STOP IT, STOP IT**

 

 

 

 

 

"I d-de-de-de-de-de--"

 

## "I DENY IT!!!"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You scream out so suddenly, that you shake the crow that was nesting around the window outside.

 

You can feel your heart racing faster than your thoughts could ever match them.

 

Shit.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Shit.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Breathe in,

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

breathe out.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Your name was Dave Strider.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And for some reason,

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

you knew today was just going to be one hell of a long day.


	5. .

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> yO, THIS IS SOME LITTLE SHIT, YO  
> 

 

You feel lilac fall from your eyelashes, as you hiccup a breath.

 

One.

Two.

Three.

 

Your legs are spread out even.

 

Your face boils in heat. Lips slicked, eyes damp, as you breathe in even.

 

One two three.

One two three.

_"Baby,"_

 

You hear a woman you don't know. Someone soft, and earnest, and distant. Distant as your range of vision. Your range of feeling.

Distant are the clothes you're sure are on your body, yet you feel like you're floating somewhere across here or over there.

" _Mm_ ,"

You breathe in.

Breathe out.

Stomach falling and rising for a person you barely know.

Yet your legs are already meek.

They already pale in comparison to the words that wispily normally fall out of your throat, in days where you're more sobered.

In here, you lay outside feeling drugged.

" _So beautiful_ ,"

You hear her purr.

You feel serendipous, as you feel your blood matter, and your head prickle softly.

Cotton like.

Dumb and blank.

"M--m"

You try to talk, but there are no words that can come out of you.

Just noises.

Noises for two, and you to hear.

You wonder what noises there is for her.

"Let me clean you up,"

You see _it_ dive.

Dive under you, and underneath you. As it brushes aches in you that you didn't know where licked by poison.

But licked you were. As you feel jolts of swipes around your regions.

You sigh, breathing in and out.

In.

and out.

As those licks speed up, and dwell around the edge of your soiled garnets.

You feel itched, and groomed for appraisal, as your heart throbs out of a place it doesn't know.

In.

and out.

In.

and out.

You hear a bob of her earrings, as you wither and wilt, as you feel the need to spread yourself out.

Spread yourself out.

You meekly feel your hands grasp around yourself and--

 

She pulls back.

 

" _You're so delicious, baby_."

 

"Mm--"

 

You arch your front, as you bring your hips, and your belly, and your bones, and your breasts up in a river like motion. Up like a snake, as you beg in only a way you would ever possibly know.

 

As you spread, and you spread, and you spread,

 

And you spread.

 

"Do you want something, honey?"

 

You hear her say in the most hurtful tone.

You chew on your lip, as you spread, and you spread, and you spread, and you spread,

 

"mM--"

 

You feel your eyes start to dampen, and your breathing start to hitch.

 

"Let mama show you something good."

 

Your eyes were clenched shut, as you spread, and you spread, and you spread,

 

But they open when you hear the flaps of something in front of you.

 

You wake to the image of something dangling far heavy, and far headier than you.

 

A warped poised messenger of something funny.

Something _long_.

Something sturdy.

 

It looks like something that doesn't belong with _her._

 

"Do you like what'ya see? Hmm?"

 

You look shyly from the cock in front of you, to your own feebly spread legs.

You don't know how to say something.

You don't know how to say anything.

 

"Watch what it can do."

 

Your legs are brought up, raised at your ribs and your budding chest, as you feel teetered on the edge of something much larger than your expertise.

 

 _She_ rubs it up and down the length of your opened bloom. The large length like a cold sword, as it cuts against the burning pink of your tender slit.

Dark and heavy it sits across the plush of your marinated flower. The tongue of it poking and slipping past your sweetened opened daisies, as it rubs against the deepened ravenous clover.

You feel just as hot and heavy, as it tugs itself against something, that's barely just spread, and spread, and spread, and spread.

It sits deviantly against your hole, and you feel like a fruit, or a bud, about to pop.

You feel something new, something scary, something

_Burst._

 

You POP as you grind your back into what must have once been your clothes. As you POP your back, your neck, your bones, your

 

"Ah--"

 

You open your mouth to sing sweet hymns, as you feel her rise you through her girth. Your stomach sitting in as hard of knots as her, as you feel a POP of a breach, and another, as you spread, and spread, and

 

"A--aH--"

 

You feel yourself fall upwards, as your whole body is raised over your head. You unable to see nothing but your stomach, as you spread and spread and spread and

 

You clench on her to stop.

 

She pulls back.

 

You hiss.

 

She grabs you around your waist and pulls you

In

and out

and In

and out

And you feel yourself be moved and shaken, as she pulls you and pushes you, and is into you, and inside of you, as you're spread, and spread, and sp

 

_"B~a~b~y~"_

 

She whispers in a way that's soft, but her motions are harder than the rock that jolts out of your stomach like a bumbling snake.

 

You're toiled, and turned, and toiled, and rocked.

 

As your stomach is pushed in and out and in and

 

"--Mm--"

 

You try to raise your voice, but all you feel is lung.

 

You open your mouth and cry, as something wet splashes between you.

 

And you cry, and you cry, and you cry, and you feel damp in every avenue that's raw.

 

You're lay strung out, a sword sticking out of your gut, as it's length trepidizes your wellbeing and your area of motion, as you feel pregnant. With how large it is, and how stuck out you feel.

You feel pregnant.

You suck in a breath, but it only makes your stomach look larger.

 

In

and out

and In

and out

and In

 

She pulls it back so suddenly, you have no time left to mourn her.

Left to mourn _it._

 

But you still get to see her and watch as it bob's cattishly.

Laughing at you like a hyena.

You swallow.

 

"Want to see something just as cool?"

 

You look at her, a little bashful. As your legs finally close, but stingy and meaty. You feel tired.

 

She purrs, as it grows in front of you, and you gulp.

 

She doesn't care for the fact that you were just aroused, as she pulls your knees a part once again.

 

Her head diving into the part of you, only she seems to know.

 

You see your stomach bob in anxiousness, as you watch her lick you

 

Up

and down.

Up

and down.

 

You watch as she spreads you, with fangs that seem unbecoming, for a woman so nurturing.

A woman you don't know.

 

You see them glint shinely, as she opens you like a woven tomb.

Spreading you, and licking you.

She licks somewhere scary, somewhere that makes you itch, and want to cry.

 

You croon like a cat, and buzz in tingles.

 

You feel something poke out, and you feel vaguely vulnerable and reared.

 

"This will feel good in a bit, doll,"

 

You see her hone her mouth and suck heartily on you. Sucking you dry and dryer, as you feel to open, and you feel to closed, as your legs spread and spread and spread

 

You feel a scary prick, and almost cry, until something better wooshes underneath your skin.

 

You're hot.

 

You feel hot.

 

You feel something pump you with fire against every part of you that shouldn't be awake.

 

She pulls back so suddenly, that again you almost cry,

 

until you notice something stuck. Something feeling stuck out of the corner of your spread open maw.

 

You want to itch it, but it beams. Stood. Sturdy. Like a prick, like a budding thorn. It sticks out, and you feel like you need to close something. You need to unopen something, but you don't know what or where it is.

You feel a throb, and you moan. Your breasts feeling red, they feel bit and sturdy like pins, as they stick out just as large, and just as pushy.

You arch back, and push out your body.

You feel something bad happen to yourself.

You feel something bad.

It's hot as it pulses and pulses

and pulses and pulses and pulses and pulses

and

**pulses**

and

pulses

and

**pulses**

and

pulses

and

**PULSES**

and

it grows.

 

You feel your hands creep underneath you, as you spread the parts of you that remind you that your a flower, and watch as the creepy vine of your newly formed stem starts to

 

grow

and grow

and

grow

and grow

and

 

"MmMmm--"

 

You whine, as the tips of your cuticles start to get soaked with the last remaining parts of what makes you seem like a lady.

 

You watch as it stands tall.

Large.

Cute.

Pink.

 

That's not yours anymore.

 

"Mmmm,"

 

The demoness rumbles, as she pokes a finger around your newly engorged clit.

Your cheeks flare up, as you feel yourself start to pant, and liquid start to bead.

 

It twitches, and bobs, and it looks like hers.

But you feel frightened.

 

"Let mama help you~"

 

She opens her pink, pretty, parsed lips. As she begins to suck, lick, and soil you. Your new parts. Your new shade. You feel suede, if that's something that's possible.

 

You close your eyes, and whine.

 

She sucks and sucks and sucks and you swallow

 

You want to splash, like you had earlier. As if at a pool, or a ride, as you ride her mouth with your hips and your sway.

 

"Mo--mm--mmo--"

 

You open your mouth, as she releases yours. Your head swiveling with want and tears, as you want nothing more than to just cum cum cum,

 

even just to breathe.

 

you sigh,

 

"It's time for desert,"

 

You feel cuckheld, as you watch your apple bob warily in the evening light. Your patience dimming with need, as you jerk your hips pleadingly at the woman who caused a mess larger than the one swarming underneath your pleasantries or your skirt.

 

You’re damp and soiled in too many places to count,

you’re soiled

you’re soiled

you’re soiled

you’re soiled

you’re

 

You watch the bob of her Adam come into view, as she brings out the larger toy. It strokes its length up and down and up and down and

Up your own and

You almost wilt as you feel ashamed and

You want to be that big and

You feel yourself get bigger and

You watch as it rubs itself against you and

you kiss and you rub and it kisses and it rubs and

you cave as you try to rub your smaller flower against her. the one that fairs shielded by a much larger tree, but

you only feel her cock reach your more inner parted groves as

it rubs and rubs and rubs and rubs and rubs and rubs and

 

you feel wilted, as she parts your smaller sex

and you pant and pant and whine and h--h

 

She parts you, as you feel a small voice try to shout

 

"m"

 

She parts you, as you feel a small voice raise her voice

 

"m"

 

She spreads you, and you feel a smaller, larger, smaller, larger, smaller, larger

 

"M--"

 

She spreads your labia a part, as she rubs the head, and crooks her tongue, and crooks a finger, and your nipples pert out, and your breathing singes, and your faces grows hot, and your tongue grows clot

 

"---M--"

 

You feel the head push past a breach, as you feel something about to

about to

 

POP

 

"MOM--!"

 

You're raised from the dead, shaken in the midst of a heart attack. As your head crashes against the headboard, and you feel yourself shout

You feel yourself come

A rekindled womanly voice within your throat shrieks louder than the sun that forgot to rise outside your window,

 

 

 

 

 

**_"MOM."_ **


	6. .

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dave.

You _cock_ your head forward

You _cock_ your head forward

You _cock_ your

You _c_ _ock_  your

You _cock_ your head back, _as you_ feel a crick to the side of your

To the side of your

You feel your hands tense up, as you feel your muscles spasm and you

You _feel_ your hands tense up, as you feel your muscles spasm and you

_Spasm and you_

_Spasm and you_

You **_cock_** your head

Up as you

cock your head

as you

_cock your_

_cock your_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Rise and shine kiddo,"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You **COCK** your head up as you hear a man, as you rise and **SHOUT**  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

But kid you around, as the only voice that you hear a mile away, is the Rise and Shine of cracked old radio.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Rise, and raise the early musked sky, as the hours keep going on--wouldn't you say so Todd,"

"Yeah I would say so Jerry--"

"Hey have you heard--"

"Hey, have you--eurgh."

You groan, sneering at nothing, as you feel for your head, and the break of your nerves, as your palm rubs down your temples.

You jam the stupid thing with your fists, as you take off into the bathroom, and you rinse off your face, as you see a face you

you see a face,

you

 

see

 

 

your

 

Y-You

You

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Rise and shine, kiddo."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You quirk up, and **shout.**

 

 

 

 

 

The glass of your mirror breaks as you jam the stupid thing with your fists,

As you take off out of the bathroom,

as you take off your shirt, and roll the blood off your hand and roll the

as you take off your shirt, and roll the blood off your

blood off your,

the blood off your hand and roll the tip of the,

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Now roll the tip in your hand,"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You bolt up.

 

 

 

 

 

You skywalk out of your room, and leave the apartment in storm.

You forget your shirt, you're shit, you're half naked running down the lobby, as you try to dust off the cold air. The weariness in your gut. You're bolting, you're running, you feel heat down your neck, as you nearly croak.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Rise and shine, Houston. The president's landed himself this side of town."

"This side of town? What in gosh nation are these city folk doing right 'round the corner of this butter and squash?"

"Well, I heard. And I mean I ought to have heard, that he was here on official business?"

"Hoo--ey, the president? The actual United President?"

"I mean you could say about."

"How important is this business, on a scale of one to ten?"

"About as important of a gnarly, uh, six or seven I suppose. Maybe an eight."

"Now on what scale are we basing these equations on?"

"What?"

"These equations."

" _What?_ Brother,"

"On a longhorn scale between Dallas and huffin, New Mexico, how high of a pound scale should I get out for my ma’?"

"Well I would get a ruler."

"A ruler?"

"Maybe a long ass ruler, bout the size of a four by four truck."

"So it's the size of about New Mexico to fuckin Jupiter?"

"What?"

"So it's about the size of planet earth to fuckin Jupiter?"

"What?"

"Well I do say, I guess we're about the size of planet earth being taken over by a rock the size of planet fuckin Jupiter."

"Planet fuckin Jupiter?”

“Planet fuckin Jupiter, sir.”

.

.

.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"I haven't talked to Harley in a week,"

"Huh?"

Your friend, blue eyed wide eyed wonder barks back, as he nearly loses his food from out his mouth, which in retrospect, would have been less unfitting, had it not been for how comically unstoned you were right now.

"You know, ever since like. The past few months, all of us feel so." 

You grunt dejectedly,

"Feel so..."

He repeats,

"So scattered, you know?"

He relaxes a little when you talk, seemingly ingesting your words more than his food, as he closes his mouth in principal as fuckin decency. But decency ain't feelin so decent when you're feeling strung along with some unknown monkey riding down your back.

"Dave, are you feeling ok?"

He looks on at you, concerned.

You just wave him off. A chitter of a laugh, trying to force it's way out your teeth.

"Peachy. Fine. Cobbler, I'm just."

"You're just..."

"M'messed up. I'm feeling kind of. Kind of like," 

You lick your teeth, and take in a bit of a jagged breath. 

"I feel like I miss my afternoon therapist."

"You know, I miss her too, Dave." 

He sighs a bit hushed, as he rubs a hand down his jaw bone. You see him trying to sport muscles and flex, and No sir-e, would you dare his genetics to out best yours

Once

a

fucking

gain.

Fucking pretty boy over here's getting on your fucking nerves with his long armed strokes.

Son of a bitch.

"You know, I'm glad my dad agreed to move us out here."

He just sighs in that way that tells you he's bitterly less repressed about the world as you are emotionally.

"He's been fidgety like you've been lately."

"I'm surprised y'all still keep contact."

"We're all so shitty for still being broke college kids out here, living with our parents."

"I paid my mortgage in my home last month, speak for yourself you weightless freeloader."

"Your brother's such a bitch,"

"Yeah, you and me goin' forward."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You walk John off to his classroom like the schoolgirl you are, because after that last conversation, your last meal's been trying to escape your meal plan.

 

You upchuck, and play hookie as you skip your next class and fail faster than your lanky ass teacher did at getting the school kids to actually pretend to listen to his weird strudently mandatory class.

 

You pick up speed as you jet past a street, a house, some kid's bike, as you run

 

You run as fast as your legs dare chase you, as you feel a whip of a breeze in your hair.

 

You nearly run out of oxygen, as you feel your heart pumping out of your esophagus.

 

Your feet on the chase as you

 

Your feet on the chase as you

 

As you feel chased by something

 

As you feel chased by something

 

As you feel chased by

 

 

 

 

"Dave."

 

 

 

 

As you feel chased by some th i

 

 

 

 

 

"Dave."

 

 

 

 

As you hear a dog growl underneath your collar, as you feel chased by something

 

 

 

 

 

"Dave."

 

 

 

 

As you feel chased by some t h ing big, something large under head you

 

 

 

 

 

Under h e ad you move under a tree branch,

 

 

 

 

 

 

as you feel chsedbysmething.

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Dave."

 

 

 

 

 

 

A large body overhead you, as you breathe your remorse through the rapidness of your heel.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You feel c h a  s   ed by something.

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Your move, kid."

 

 

 

 

 

A car sounds you out of your head, out of your eyes as you hear a crash.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  

A gun shot.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You hear a gun _cock_ his

 _cock_ his head, as you

 _Cock_ your head back, as you

 

 **Cock** your head forwar d to see a

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"HWOAH, BUDDY PAL, BUDDY SERGEANT."

"HOO DADDY-O. THIS IS NOT A DRILL THIS IS NOT A DRILL."

"SOMEBODY SHOT THE PRESIDENT, ON ROUTE 69, THERE WAS A CAR CRASH RIGHT WHERE THE PRESIDENT WAS TAKING HIS LEAVE."

"WAS THIS A SET UP?? HOLY PISS THIS IS NEWS OF THE DAY,"

**"STRAIGHT OUT OF HOUSTON, THAT FIRECRACKER SHOT AND LEFT,"**

**"AIN'T IT TOO SOON TO BE CRACKIN JOKES?"**

**"CRACKIN JOKES? CRACKING WHAT?"**

**"YOU KNOW HE WAS CRACKING HIS HEAD BACK AS HE**

**COCKED HIS GUN A** S HE

cocked his head back as he

_cocked his back and he_

_hit the back as he_

_cocked his gun as he_

co,

c

k

ed

 

h

i s

g

 

g

 

 

g

 

 

g

.

.

,


	7. Fallen

_As he cocked his head as he_

_cocked his head as he_

_cocked his head as he_

 

Cocked his head from out his phone. Out your phone. Out your. 

 

You cocked your head back from out your phone, as you heard the vagrant news of the President just getting shot Downtown.

 

Oh man, he was a black one too.

Oh man, son of a bitch.

God sure does hate black people.

 

This must have been a set up!!

 

You just came to this state _too._

 

 

 

You skip your car, as you take to your feet and run past the crowded field of passer biers. You wanted to see the commotion for yourself, so you got out your phonecamera and started taking pictures of the scenery, cars, roads, until you cocked your head forward _as you_

cocked your head as you

_cocked your head as you_

saw a whole bunch of red and you

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

are those

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

ben stiller shades?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  
 

"DAVE."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"DAVE!!!"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  

 

_as you cocked your head as you_

_cocked your head as you_

_cocked your gun as you_

_cocked your gun as you_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You skid into the crowd and caught him, bleary eyed past the police officer that tried to gate you.

 

 

You don't notice the tears dwindling your vision, until you see them land on Dave's bright pale face.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_as he cocked his gun as he_

_as you cocked your arm as you_

_cocked his ground as you_

_cocked his gun as he_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Your lip warbles, as he grunts out in recognition, and you can feel your teeth chattering weakly.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Dave?"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You croak out softly, as you bring a warm hand to his face.

 

You're not sure if you're seeing red, or seeing pain. But when he moves his body, he crooks his neck in a way that says he's fine.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

No blood, just his shirt.

 

Just the color of his fucking shirt.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You want to punch him.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dave grunts out weakly, as you try everything in your power not to crush him. You pull off just a bit. Just to hear if he can speak. 

 

He pulls his back up, as he looks at you in a way that's smug. 

 

"D-Did-"

 

Your teeth are chattering, as you bring his head up so he can speak more clearly.

 

"Y-Yeah, bud?"

 

"Did you...go hulk on that officer over there?" 

 

You breathe in heavily, as you look behind you.

 

You see the mess of a earth shaken man look half as scared as you do.

 

Half as scared as.

 

You feel about half as scared as you do.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_His eyes popped, his side quivering._

_As he cocked his gun,_

_asou ccked yorguns_

_as yu,_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"You totally threw him."

"Huh?"

"You totally threw that dude out of the way like a fucking Godzilla--h rck--"

He coughs up half a lung as he starts to snerk.

"Dude, that shit was _gnarly_."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You?

 

You don't know what he's laughing at, you just.

 

You eye the dude behind you and the dude in front and just.

 

You just breathe and close your eyes.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Today was the worst day of your life.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

.

.

..

... 

_"We're MOVING. WHAT! ARE YOU KIDDING ME??"_

 

You stalk your dad near the edge of the staircase, and he just walks fast right past you.

 

"DAD, this is INSANE."

 

You hear your voice crack in a jaded skittish tone, and you try your best to move across him, but he doesn't let up. He's sturdier than you are. Larger, thicker, meatier. He's tougher to scale than a wall, and you're the one that grew.

 

" **DAD** , I JUST ALMOST LOST MY _**BEST FRIEND**_ , AND YOU WANT TO MOVE LIKE **TEN OR TWENTY STATES PAST THE BORDER** , AND I DON'T EVEN GET TO-"

 

You feel yourself nearly have an asthma attack as you have to stop yourself from boiling over the edge,

boiling over the fucking edge as you

your nerves, you’re fucking

you're fucking pissed off.

your hands start to shake as you

feel a wail trying to break out of whatever remai

re mning oxygen,

You breathe in.

and out

In

and out

In

and out

In

and out

In.

 

In.

 

In.

 

 

 

 

In

 

 

 

 

 

 

in 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He doesn't do much, but keep it all in.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Keep it all in, as the trip to the uhaul is as long as the trip down the road you never got to take.

 

You never even really got to see Dave's house, and that's what really pisses you off the most.

 

 

You miss your friend.

 

You miss your friend, already.

 

You miss Dave more than you can word, you're.

 

Ok, you're PISSED off.

 

You and your dad didn't speak after that.

 

The silent treatment doesn't work on a man that's silent.

 

He's always so weirdly secretive that it pisses you off.

 

But it's so fucking whatever, he has his secrets, but you have yours too.

 

If he won't tell you why he moved you this side of Houston to the next exit of Idaho,

 

then you guess you'll just keep your secret of jadedly actually liking guys.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Fuck.

 


	8. .

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dave.

 

Your body is lit on fire, as you tremble

tremble

tremble

_rhumble._

You feel a swell grow hot under your shirt, your skin, your slacks.

Your tongue lolls out, as you feel your head swell with devious thoughts.

That turn and turn and turn and turn

You're on.

You're on, and you sense a _him._

Somebody over looming across the boundaries, your outskirts, out of skirt and breath and wind, as you

breathe

and

breathe

and

_breathe._

You reel as you feel something tender bite around the bead of your head.

You bite your lip, and keen, as a moan tries to wobble

and wobble

and warble

and gurgle

and you feel slick

slick heat come from places you're trying to keep down.

but you're hot

you're hot

you're hot

you're hot

and you feel stares.

and there's one and then there's zero

and it's back to hero as you feel yourself

die

and

die

and

die

and

die

and

 

" **Ah** ,"

 

You jolt back awake.

 

You rise from your chest, as you grunt forwards and back and forwards and back, and fuck.

_Fuck_                                                                                                                     

                                                                                           fuck you sideways.

you're hurting a bit, you can feel the sting, you can feel the--

 

"Ow."

 

You whine, as you roll your hips, and whine out a moan.

You stop yourself.

Your face feeling hot at the sounds you're making.

 

You hate this.

 

Where is your mind heading to, and to be honest can the gutter just turn its fucking syringe off.

 

 

 

 

 

.

.

.

 

 

 

 

 

"He's gone,"

Was all your brother could tell you the minute you got out the facilities.

No phone, no text, no nothing from that son of a bitch. To be honest you feel like you're kept inside of a jail cell, besides the one invigorated by your mind. Hey, if dog meets dick, could rottweiler do yourself a favor and rip out his cock for your one last time.

Snide son of a bitch.

"Why the hell were you acting so cagey, he's my best fucking friend. I mean for fucks fucking sake."

You sneer, as you push past the jackass, and make sure to give him the brunt of your disdain.

Even if you were walking in crutches, you would make sure to walk all over his toe.

You hate this sick asshole more than words can stand, how the fuck are you suppose to cope with this shit.

First you lose your sanity, your best therapist, and now your best friend?

God you miss Lalonde.

God you miss being normal.

Fuck it.

 

John's birthday's almost around the corner too.

 

"Blow out the candle's pony boy, we've all been dealt a hand of jack and shit. Happy birthday bucky."

 

You blow at dust, as you try hard not to linger on your anger.

 

Or linger on the surge of anguish, as you feel someone staring at you from your back.


	9. Lost

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

##  **"WOOF!"**

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	10. .

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John.

Son of a bitch.

_Son of a bitch._

You kick the wall, and kick the bed, and kick your dresser, and you sneer as you see things tumbling and cracking all around you.

You're fucking pissed off. 

You hate him.

Son of a bitch, _son of a bitch._

You bite your thumb, as you start to feel pin prickles of left over tears make their way past your cheeks. You hiss, as you bite harder on your skin, feeling branded and wrought out to dry.

You _KICK_ the table for one last measure, and collapse on the bed, as you curl up underneath a pillow of your dirty rotten sheets.

You hate him.

You hate him, you hate him.

You hate that he moved you, before you even got a chance to.

To look at Dave and maybe just.

Just kiss him.

Even once?

You never got to kiss him or cuddle him or hold him at all while you were over there.

You never got to even tell him how you feel!

Fucking.

Fuck.

You hate him.

You hate everything about him.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

.

.

.. 

You're left alone for some time before you come to. You glance up, and wake up to the room beaming dark. One light shared from the crack of the door, as you move out your bed, and go towards it.

When you open it, you see Dave.

Pale, lean, hanging dainty by his neck, as he's withered in the room all by himself.

You run toward him, and gently call out to him. But he doesn't budge or move, instead you feel like you're floating as you bolt past him and the rush of cars driving around him.

You leap.

When you hit the pavement to protect him, you roll and you roll, and you hear a rumble of laughter come from the guy on the grass, with his shades and his dimples and,

He laughs so serenely that you can't help but smile.

You delve your face between your arms, and hide. You meekly try not to grin as well.

He's so cute, he's so cute.

You love him you love you love

When he looks at you, he looks at you in a way that you think movies and girls were lead to believe. That this would be the part where the dashing prince moved your hand, and kissed you on your mouth, your cheeks, or your finger

  

ti p

s

 

You feel a tip in your heart as you swell, you linger on his touch, as you feel your chest start to stutter, and you feel drunk or high.

You push him on his back, and you kiss him across his nose and cheek, and you lap in his scent.

You lap in Dave.

You lap in, your boy

frie-

Your _boy_

frie-

You feel nails dig into grass, as you corner _your boy_

boy

_boy_

toy, _ing_ with his hair, as you see him as the object of your eye.

And you crouch on him, and breathe in his scent, as you play with your

_toy_

toy

_toy_

you toy,

with how beautiful he is on your first honeymoon, with his red suit and tie. Blue cuff links, as you read his face, read his eyes. His nose crinkles in a way that says he's happy to have known you. Happy to have spoke to you.

You smile, as he rubs his wrist against your knuckles and your arms.

And you crank your muscles, as your shoulders jut, and your knees buckle, as you push past the dining room table, and topple over him and you

_growl_

And you growl

And you growl

And you growl,

as you round him over his wedding ring, that you put on his hand yourself. And you _sing_ him a tune, you hum him a noise you bedded all on your own, you cooked all on your own.

You sing out a hum,

“You're mine,”

“You're mine,”

“You're mine,”

“You're _mine.”_

_And you growl_

And you growl

and you Growl

_and uoy growl_

_And uoyrygrowl_

_andyougrowl_

_and yiougrowl_

_hgbd you gekeiwl_

_andyiygrollwkkl_

Andyougrowlandyougrowlandyougrowlandyougrowl

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And you bite his neck and call him your own,

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                                                    And you wake up.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Huddled alone in your sheets, as you feel yourself cry yourself to completion.

 

You tremble with pain, as you wilt from something. 

 

Sad.

 

You breathe in heavy, as you whisper out in something hurtful and painful.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

" _Dave_."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	11. .

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose.

_"Mom,"_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"It's almost been sixty days since the last time Wi-fi pretended to work. Mom, are you hiding something?"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_"Mom?"_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_"Hm?"_

 

She chirps up from her resting space. The sofa is a magnanimous place to dwell within these times of cover. Though the only cover left to play around her silhouette are the barely warn garments hanging off her breasts, her chest, her neck, her-

"Hm?" She chirps up again, as you stop yourself from ogling her.

"The radio still isn't working. Nothing is."

You feel yourself almost walk in a circle, pacing back and forward, as you try to keep your eyes down.

"I'm. growing frigid, mom."

"Darling, come here," She opens her wide forgiving arms, as it does nothing to unveil the sheer silken Chinese Robe from her imported French birth. It hangs on the pink of her nipple, to the freckle of her stomach, to the slight sweat slicken of her brow. Ruby eyes hang childishly in a way that daunt you.

You groan smally, in anguish, as you turn your back.

"Won't you please forgive the weather. I seem to be growing cold."

You can hear the sound of your mother's light arms sink, and a small sigh graces her pretty lips.

She's sweeter than you are. At your birth, you felt ugly.

" _Sweetie_ ," She says in a hum. So light and pretty, she almost makes you feel just as so. "You look frail lately. Won't you come in mama's lap?"

She pats down her thighs, and you feel yourself throb as you peak at her nude, and move your gaze.

" _Honey_ ,"

She gets up, and moves warm enticing arms around your back. Pert pricks on her chest whelp softly on your back. Her body curves in a way that's fitting to you, that leaves nothing to the imagination. Down from the perfect arch of her waist, to the daft jut of her ribs. Her smooth soft skin, baby dew hands. That curve long and thin, and are only a bit wrinkly.

Her veins contrast yours, and you feel another one start to throb.

You almost moan.

"What do you want? A pony?"

She starts kissing you like a girl on your hair, and only barely missing your cheek, but touching your neck.

She breathes hotly, sweetly.

Your stomach knots, as you keep yourself doing the same to the best of your abilities.

"I want the truth-"

She nags you with another kiss under your eye, as you fidget.

"Mom--"

You hate the way her skin matches yours, as you feel ripples of nerves set fire every time she touches you the wrong way.

Her hands steady around your stomach in a bearish squeeze, as you're pushed and locked together. Her large form draping you.

_"Mom,"_

Your heart pounds out of your chest, as you feel her hold reach right under your breast. You swallow a lump, something you almost could feel forming--had it not been the fact that you were awake, or the fact that neither of you were drunk or ludicrous.

You fall slyly into her pelvis as you wetten yours.

You blush, and look away.

"M-M,"

You try to speak, but you feel your throat clasp, as you breathe through an underworking tunnel.

" _Baby_ ,"

She sing-songs as she starts to rock you. Her platinum strands of blonde hair fall across your cheek, as you breathe in your anxiety. You suck on your lip, and try to refocus on the topic at hand. You hate the way her fingers play on the softness of your skin, as she caresses you.

" _Mom_ ,"

A voice that sounds so small comes out of you.

You cough.

" **Mom** ," You say more declaratively.

You snap out of her grip, but you feel a bit of a tug from your arm as you land back into her bosom in shock.

Her pink tips keep you caged in, and more than one way.

"I miss you, you've seemed so distant lately pookie."

You grunt, and wrestle out of her grasp, as you jolt in excitement when her hands accidentally slap your boob.

"I miss peace of mind. Stop. Ok. Just stop."

She looks at you in a manner of hurt, as you see her slightly stiff out her lip.

"Whatever. Whatever, this is bogus. I know you're up to something. And when I figure it out, you won't be the last one laughing."

"Honey, honey sweetie. Hold on, what's happening? You look like a mess-"

You throw a couch cushion at her, as you dash vigorously from out the hallways. You hear footsteps clattering behind you, as you push through curtains, hit a few doors and arches.

"Baby, baby, baby."

You run into a random bathroom and try to close the door, but your mom squishes her build into the junction before you can stop it fully.

You grunt, as you whine out in annoyance, as you keep your weight steadily heavy.

"Bab--" She hiccups in pain, as you keep yourself stood fair as you try as hard as possible to push her away.

You see a hand move it's way out of the crack that she's managed to hold up. You ignore it for a time, as you keep to your position.

"Please, honey. I'm sorry,"

She says this in the most apologetically sad voice that you feel your frustration start to waver, and you almost grunt out in annoyance, but then you just stop.

You see her barbie doll pedicure wave and wave, to and fro to try and grab your attention.

You look the other way, and bite your own nails, as you think of ways to clear your breath and your mind.

She stills as you feel one less feeble jerk towards the door, and you keep your eyes and body complacent. You look down towards the other way. You sigh.

When you were at your most sincere, you could tell there was something off. Something off about her. Like her whereabouts on a deserted island for one. Her seemingly odd sense of calm she's seemed to keep up. She seems more like a floozy then a heretic, though you're no good judge at snuff and porn when it all feels the same. Her hair looks...better. Her face. Her smell.

She's keeping your favor, in ways that has to be strange.

It can't be your imagination.

Does she have a boyfriend?

A secret lover that she perhaps doesn't want you to find accidental logs of?

Is she randomly jaded of you, too much to allow for a second occupant in e-thearnet affairs?

You feel jaded, yourself, when you move to hold her hand. The calmness in her air, the heat of your throat. The softness of her touch, as she makes small motions to soothe you. A nail that rubs circles around your veins. Her coos.

You're glad you find yourself seated in the bathroom, as you feel your legs give out,

And the dam between your legs quiver.

You’re drenched.


	12. .

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dave.

 

 

 

 

 

You bolk 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  

 

you bolk

and you bolk 

and you bolk

and you

bolk

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_as you feel jet lagged._

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You hate this. You hate this. You hate this.

You hate this.

You hate yourself.

 

Your heart keeps feeling like it's tugging 

and tugging 

                and tugging 

                          and tugging

You haven't been right.

You haven't been right for _weeks._

It feels like several.

 

 

You're able to eat and drink, and take a shower. But the minute the water hits, you're

crying

and

**crying**

and

## crying.

You feel like your skin just got run over by a molten hot lava truck. Covered in barbed wire, and filled with poison gas and poison everything, everywhere.

You feel terrible, you feel hopeless.

You go through it in waves.

And you keep on crying

and

crying

and

crying

and

**crying**

 

 

 

and

**_crying_ **

and

##  **crying.**

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Your dad never looks at you pleasantly, and you feel odd. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Out of place and jaded as you try your way into making him know how depressed you are,

So you keep, 

  

 

 

 

cryingand cryingand cryingand cryingand cryingand cryingand cryingand cryingand CRYINGand 

 

 

 

 

 

but he just shoves pills and aderal under your door at night,

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And you feel your breath hitch as you keep

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

crying

n

cyrng

nd

rying

d

ycring

 

and

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Until by week four you just decide to quit.

You flop languidly on your bed, as your breath hitches and

You keep _whining_

and _whining_

and _whining_

**_and whining_ **

##  _and whining_

##  **_and_ **

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You feel your lungs cave and break, as you whimper and sniff at nothing and air. Curled up by your pillow, as you feel broken and dead and you lust

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And you dwindle.

..

.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You bite your lip, as you stop going downstairs.

Stop leaving the room.

Stop drinking water, stop eating food.

 

 

 

 

 

You feel small, small as a bug that climbs on your door frame.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And you wither

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And you         w     i       t  h er

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                                                 And you _wilt._

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You feel a quiet calm run over you.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                                                                           And you                                                   w      i ther

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Andyou....

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

(andyou)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And you hear a jagged cough come from your door.

 

You blink out of your stupor. Your eyes crusted from the night and night before, as you move your head up. Achey, dead, and sore. You feel yourself want to cough. Your head starts to burn.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Son,"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Your father speaks clairscent, in enough of a way that your eyes start to gloss up again. Your stomach churns as you think jadedly about the one man you want to go see.

You see him a lot in your dreams.

That's why you want to cry.

Every time you wake up, you start to feel tears whell up.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"I'm sorry,"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He looks around anxiously, and runs a hand over his arm. 

He's careful to step around the room. Walking as slow as he would in the woods to a wild boar.

 

 

You feel yourself almost snarl.

 

He sits at the edge of the bed, and curls up in prayer as he clasps his hands.

You feel your breath hitch, and hiccup, as a hiss almost leaves you.

 

 

 

 

 

 

"I'm so, so sorry."

 

 

 

 

  

You feel a sore sense of wrong, as you feel dreary and hungover from fatigue.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You _wilt._

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"We'll go back, son,"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Your eyes start to water again as you feel your breath run rapid and faster in a small pant.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"We'll go back home. We'll go back to Houston."

 

 

 

 

 

 

You start to whell up.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 .

 .

 ..

(Your tears run faster....)

 

(and faster 

and faster

and faster.

and faster. 

and faster. 

and,

You're going back home.

To Houston.

To Houston.

To Houston.

To Houston.

To Houston.

To Hou

You're going back home.

Going back home to Dave. 

To Dave.

To Dave.

To Dave.

To Dave.

To Dave.

To Dave.

To _Dave._

You love him.

Your heart runs,

faster

and faster

_and faster_

_and faster_

_and faster,_

_and faster,_

_and faster,_

_and faster,_

_and faster,_

_AND FASTER,_

_AND FASTER,_

_AND FASTER,_

_AND FASTER,_

_AND FASTER,_

_AND FASTER,_

_AND FASTER,_


	13. .

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jade.

 

and faster

and faster

and faster

and faster

and faster

and faster

and faster

and faster

**and faster**

## and faster

##  **and faster**

##  **and faster**

##  **and faster**

##  **and faster**

##  **and faster**

##  **and faster**

##  **AND FASTER**

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

##  _**AND FASTER**_

##  _**AND FASTER** _

##  _**AND FASTER** _

##  _**AND FASTER** _

##  _**AND FASTER** _

##  _**AND FASTER** _

##  _**AND FAST** _  

 

 

 

  

 

 

 

 

"There are people out there, Jade."

 

 

_fasterandfasterandfasterandfasterandfasterfasterandfasterandfaster_

 

 

"People who'll want to see you harmed,"

 

 

_(fasterandfasterandfasterandfasterandfasterandfasterand)_

 

 

"Why don't they like me grandpa?"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr **rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr--**_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Because they don't understand you,"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

fasterandfasterandfasterand

fasterandfasterandfasterandfast

astera nd faster and faster and faster and

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                                                                    faster and fasteranfasterandfasterandfasterandfst

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_and,_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Grandpa. I don't understand,"

 

 

_( Faster and faster and faster and faster and faster and faster and )_

 

 

"Grandpa. Are we going to die?"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

##  **"WOOF."**


	14. .

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dave.

 

## 

## 

## 

##  **"Go fetch,"**

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You fire a gun at your opposition.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The barrel quakes,

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You feel a push,

 .

 .

 

It blows you backwards as you blow torches forward,

 .

.

.

 

.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You feel frozen,

Frozen in time,

In motion,

You're moving,

You're floating,

You feel dead,

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Deep down

You were dead on.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

(You heard a match light a target,)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

" _Eurgh_ ,"

 _You're pushed back_ , as you hit a bed filled with red and scattered and muss

 

 

                                              _You're pushed back_ , as you hit a flower bed filled with red and scattered flush

   

 

                _You're pushed back_ , as you hit a dirt bed filled with red and sharpened stones

 

 

You're pushed back _,_ as you hit a bulk of a man. His grip, he puts his hands on your hips, as you feel scatters of red. On your eyes, on your joints, as your fingers circle the trigger, as he touches your knuckles, as you feel hisses of kisses against your wrists, your elbow, your palm

 

 

As you're pushed back. 

 

You'repusd back, as you hit the wall of a locker when you're close to the dormitories,

Yoepushedback, when your glasses leave your eyes, as your eyes are on streets, and red meets gravel and,

Ypushedbck, when you gaze up at the fan in your room as it swivels and swivels, as time moves forward but forward skips days and you

 _Push back_ ,            the heel of your palm to stop yourself from going dizzy, as you remember where you are. And you remember who you are.

 _You push back_ , against the wall, of your locker, and the dorms, as you feel your heart start to give way to loud and thumps, and school body jerks. As you feel like you want to hurl, as you feel like you want to

 

 

spit blood,

 

                       as you're on grass bed's. You're gun's to your side, as you grunt and cough, and feel earth quakes in the way of your eyes watering. Your chest hurting. Your knees buckling. You _spit_ chalk and hurdle. You're stinging, and you're warbling, and you're groaning, and you're angry, and you're fisting for something

 

you're fisting for

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**"There you go,"**

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He says in a tone that makes you look up to him in as dark of a way, as his voice, as your eyes, as you glare daggers at him, as you curl your tongue

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**"Good boy,"**

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

## Is ALL he has to **say**

 

 

 

 

 

 

  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You feel your feet lift, as you get up in the middle of the road, and your feet start to run and run

 

 

_As you're pushed back,_

 

 

A car dives in front of you, you're stopped between a red light, green light, orange light

 

 

One.

.

 

Two.

.

 

Three.

.

 

 

 

 

 

 

##  **_"BRO,"_ **

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You snarl, as you go d

                                    o 

                                        w n,

                                             ..

                                               .

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Bro?"

 You simper.

 

  

You see dark skin, bright teeth, bright eyes. A smile and a napsack looking up at you in a way that mesmerizes you. His hair, his eyes, he's looking down at you, as you look up at him. From this angle, he could be an angel. He could have wings, as you feel yours being pulled a part.

 

You feel yourself be pulled a part.

 

You faint.

..

.

.

 

.

 

.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

~


	15. .

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John.

 

"Dave?"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You don't think, as you move forward against the wind on your back, and the scrape on your knee as you catch him. You catch him in your arms, before his head can crack against the ground. Before he has enough of a chance to think about much.

 

 

 

 

God, he looks pale.

 

God, he looks beautiful.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Is this normal?"

 

Your legs kick in the nurse's office, as you look at everyone worriedly. Your shoes are untied, your best-friend, lovely, looks tidy. He looks right in a bed draped around his body. He looks placant, and you vacantly stare at him for two minutes too long, as you're brought back up to the nurse's nervously shaken face.

 

 

"He's been like this for a while,"

  

 

You feel yourself feel meek, as you look down.

  You don't know what to say. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It's been almost a year since Rose left.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

She cried to all of you over Skype one last time, as she howled about her mom. How she was being a weird uppity bitch. And you felt a part of your group just wither away, just like that. As if a nuke had just dropped from the sky, just like that.

 

 

But then Jade had started to get a little funny.

 

 

When Rose's birthday had came and past, you'd blown the candles for Dave over chat, and you two had talked to keep the energy from growing too cold, as you all felt too lonely to bring up the saddest subject. 

 

 

Jade had sent you an angry message on your voicemail, and blocked you on your messenger. 

 

 

You didn't know why that happened all of a sudden. You coaxed Dave into talking to you about what had happened.

  

Jade apologized later to you through text, after that. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A few days later, she had blocked you again.

 

You gave up on it, just assuming she needed a break or something.

  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You weren't sure what you did, but you were hoping this all would pass after a few exams and maybe a degree.

 

At least you still had Dave to talk to. It was just online, but you guys spent hours on Webcam watching movies until you slept.

  

It was all ok on your end, until your dad told you he would move you guys toward Houston.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                      Your stomach rus tled.,.,

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When you saw him for the first time after a butt load of work switching colleges, you nearly ran into his arm like a puppy.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He was so pretty... 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You knew your crush on him wasn't just a stupid fluke.

 

You were in love,.

.

.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Dave?"


	16. .

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose.

 

"Love,"

 

A warm hand coaxes your eyes open. A sweet sound, a kind huff.

You feel left in a daze, as you barely know yourself.

Barely know your words.

Barely know your name.

 

 

"Honey?"

 

She whispers in a way that reminds you of the innocence of seduction. Soft like a vagrant feather that sniffs and whips at your nose. Like a fairy. Like a butterfly.

 

Like a princess,

 

Like a mother.

 

 

"Mom?"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You draw it out of you, like a yawn that dares come out of your mouth.

You're in your bed, covers over you. Silk on silk, pretty pink and lavender covering your cold shaken body. Warm and warmth settles around your breath. Your nose tickled by the hilt of the cover. Face and cheek glistened with residue last night horror.

You move up to sit straight,

You're pushed back.

 

Your head is heavy. A tinge of a whine shrinks your brow, as you feel pain come from your body. Your joints, your knees. It all becomes apparent that as bright as the room feels, you are not yet ready to fall awake.

 

Not even for the sun.

Not even for her.

 

"Are you feeling ok?"

She pushes your hair back, as you feel your breathing quicken with the slight closing of your sinuses. Your stomach feels like it's on the urge of vacancy. You're somewhere between hungry and filled, as your nose begins to suffer, and your lips feel ready to chafe.

 

"Mm,"

You try to say, but a soft cough comes from the back of your throat, and you whine like a hurt animal.

 

You feel weak.

 

"I, uh,"

 

"You're so brave, pumpkin." She says in a way that you fantasize the heat between your breaths intermingle for a little while longer. "Your temperature was higher than the ceiling fan."

 

"Mom," You say in a cracked hurt sigh.

 

"I was so worried," She whispers to you, in a tone that has to be elicit. Your bed is shaken, has she adjusts her position across from you. Her knee bucks between yours, as she puts a damp rag on your head.

 

You swallow, feeling small.

 

Water drips down your chin, down your neck, and soaks your bed. Your eyes feel dry in comparison, as you feel a late cough try to make it's way from the back of your throat. You almost want to croak, you're just glad you don't feel _sick_ , sick.

 

Just overheated, at best.

 

Arguably, in love.

 

"Do you need anything. Juice. Water?"

 

You feel parched, for something once lost. You don't remember when, the last time you blank open wide, and saw a woman you actually you didn't mistrust.

 

There was a time when tenderness must have felt normal, even to you.

 

You miss her.

 

You missed your image of her.

 

"Drink," She holds the canister to your lips, you wonder in the aftertaste of alcohol, if those lips touched hers. You close your eyes, and dream yourself unconscious for merely a moment.

 

 

 

 

 

"Rose?"

 

 

 

 

 

You jolt back awake.

You do feel your fever.

You do feel fervently, unwell.

 

You don't have much to say, though your lips do feel more moist than they do.

You sit up, and grunt a bit.

 

"M-Mom?"

You stutter.

 

She's been laying at your side for hours, must have.

She's sleeping near you when she rouses her tuffle of light feathered blonde from off of her slighty drowsed face.

When you look at her, you feel

stuttered.

 

 

You study her features, from the jitter of her lash, to the dip of her nose.

You feel at odds, and older around her.

You can't recall a time when she seemed so youthful.

Angelic, even.

This woman who ruins you and makes you feel closer to the devil.

You wonder what strew you in so bad.

Why do you feel evil,

Why have you always have.

 

 

"Are you feeling better?" Her voice says in a flutter. In a way that denotes you as a child, and a doll.

 

"M-hm. Thank you,"

 

You feel your eyes try to close, but you feel your head get tipped back. Large, long, comforting hands are run over your forehead, and you breathe in through your bones.

 

"Mom," You breathe.

Your lips purse, and you open your eyes to see pink. Rose, looks back at you with garnets and flowers. Pink, and Lilac. Soft, and curled.

You lose yourself as you draw constellations in her dimples.

 

You feel yourself shift,

You push yourself up by your arms,

You move up and give her a kiss,


	17. .

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dave.

 

You wake up.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"John--"

" _Ssh_ ,"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A warm hand coaxes your eyes open. You tilt your head, and feel the warmth of father's prides, and years of toys into one man's brittle palm.

You feel like going back to sleep.

You feel glowing.

 

"You okay?" He whispers in a way that's soft. In a maternal or a paternal nature, you wouldn't know either.

 

Instead you lean into him, and sigh.

 

"Yeah, bud."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You feel warm.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When you arise from your second shift in consciousness. There's no nurse, no school body, no sounds, just a moon in an empty place.

It's dark, but for some reason, this isn't your room.

You notice a figure sleeping next to you, as you sit up to rise.

You look at him, paused.

There's a feeling in your gut that makes your heart churn, you don't know what to call it.

Gas? 

Yeah, that's probably as good as it gets.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You hear him murmur something, as you turn your head closer to hear his voice.

Hear his breathing.

Nestle closer to his face.

You hate how pretty he is.

He always was your quarterback hero.

You can't believe you're the dweeb in this story.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Hey,"

You murmur softly, as you pitch yourself closer to your friend.

 

 

He slips between awake and asleep, you can tell. He must have been tired too.

 

"H-" He yawns, and stretches back. "--hi."

 

"What's up?"

 

 

"Not much,"

 

You both dot nervously between each other's eyes.

 

His voice sounds so sweet.

 

 

 

"What happened with the nurse? Isn't this some sort of illegal?"

 

 

 

He moves his hands to feel up the back of his clothes looking for something.

He pulls out a set of shiny keys that glare out between the moonlight.

 

 

 

"The nurse had an emergency, and I lied, and told her I'd wake you up. Nobody came to check up on us."

 

 

 

"Sounds legit," You snuff.

 

 

 

He snirks something soft.

 

 

 

You breathe for a moment, as you feel the relief of a head that feels light. For once.

No headache.

Just heartache.

 

Your chest stutters.

 

 

"You want to just relax here?" He rests his head against his arms, and says within the muffle of his hoodie.

 

 

"Hell," You breathe.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"So what happened with you and your dad?"

"We got into a pretty steep argument?"

"That bad, huh?"

"Yeah,"

"I feel you."

"How are you and your Bro?"

"Please don't talk about him."

"Hm."

"Hey."

"Hm?"

"Thanks."

"Thanks for what?"

"Thanks for coming back."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"I love you,"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

For a moment, you feel like you might have passed out. But when you re-open your eyes, moonstone's stare back at you.

 

They glow, in such a honest way.

 

You don't think you've ever seen anyone so fair, so starlet in any time in your life.

 

 

 

 

 

"I love you too, Joh-"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You feel lips.


End file.
